Loyalty
by The Unbreakable Snape Fan
Summary: Regulus realizes his family isn't perfect. Written for HP Beholder 2010. Regulus Black/Rabastan Lestrange.


Loyalty

The mansion looked very much like the home Regulus had grown up in. It had quaint but dangerous knick knacks all around, and a very loyal house-elf. The color scheme was dark—no, royal, he reminded himself—and the interior design would never show up in a picture in Witch Weekly, praised by fools. And yet, the mansion did not _feel_very much like the home Regulus had grown up in. It reminded him of home in that a glass bird reminded one of a bird. And both were very fragile, unmoving representations of beautiful things.

Beautiful to him, at least. Sirius had never appreciated home like Regulus had. Regulus never really understood why. Sirius was always challenging, and questioning, and expecting. He wanted nothing more than to be free, and free he had become. Regulus remembered the day Sirius had been burned off the Black Family Tapestry. He'd smiled.

It wasn't that he didn't like Sirius. Sirius was just ungrateful. They had good parents. He'd done his very best to convince the Gryffindor of that. Apparently, he had failed. But it was no great loss. Regulus had felt closer to his cousins.

He had been here before, of course. No, the Lestrange place was not new. But he had never stayed overnight before. Staring at an old Lestrange family portrait, he jumped slightly when Rodolphus, Bellatrix's husband, cleared his throat. He turned to look at the older man.

"Aren't you hungry?"

The other brother, Rabastan, was close behind, entering the landing at the top of the main staircase where they stood. "Would you like to know who is in this painting, Regulus?"

Slowly, Regulus nodded.

Rabastan waved his brother away. "We'll be there before it gets cold." He smiled at Regulus, who cautiously smiled back.

* * *

Dinner was wonderful, featuring a hearty stew just the way Regulus liked it. Bellatrix was a family-oriented woman. She wanted sons of her own, and was trying hard to conceive. She had always sort of taken Regulus under her wing. She had been there for him before and after his initiation, giving him a little pep talk before the ceremony, rubbing potion on his forearm to ease the mark's sting.

No doubts about the fact that she was wonderful. If Bellatrix had not been his cousin, she would probably be the only woman he would want to marry. He was a pleaser, and a follower, and Merlin was she ever a leader. She was an odd one, and sometimes he caught her looking at him _that way_. But she did love her husband. He had no doubts about that either. Plus, she was his cousin. Plus, she was married. Plus, he didn't really like women much.

He patted his stomach. "Aw, Bella, that was fantastic," he praised, smiling. He had just finished his final year of Hogwarts. His initiation ceremony had taken place during the term. Bellatrix's hands had soothed the mark that night, and his parents had sent him his favorite sweets the next morning. He had felt such pride. He was a Black worth praising. He was a Black worth talking about, worth anything at all. He would never be removed from the Black Family Tapestry.

Sirius had come to see him when he'd found out. Sirius, who had run away to Uncle Alphard. He had always been Uncle Alphard's favorite. Uncle Alphard had a strange appreciation for boys who rebelled and questioned and defied. Regulus didn't understand it. Uncle Alphard didn't understand Regulus.

Sirius had sat down with him at the edge of the forest, leaning against that bloody motorbike. Regulus had urged him farther into the forest so they would not be seen. He wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed of the appearance of the flying Muggle motorbike or the long-haired blood traitor.

Blood traitor soon won out as Sirius lunged forward and gripped at his shoulders. He'd asked him if it was true, if he really belonged to Voldemort. Regulus had hissed, a shiver lancing down his spine. He bit his tongue against telling Sirius not to say the name. Sirius would just say it again and again.

He'd settled for merely asking him to let go. Sirius had leaned against a nearby tree, and he told Regulus to lift up his sleeve. Regulus had done so, with only the slightest hesitation. It had been Sirius's turn to hiss.

He'd shaken his head, the long hair shining in a way Regulus didn't think his hair would ever be able to shine. He'd sighed, and looked away. He said he'd known this would happen when he left home.

Regulus had felt such indignation flare inside of him. He reminded Sirius that he had always admired the Dark Lord's pursuits. That he was living up to the Black Family name in a way Sirius had refused to live. He reminded him that this was his choice, and that it had nothing to do with a pompous prick like Sirius.

Sirius had shoved him. Regulus had pulled back, glaring, brushing himself off. He'd asked if he could get back inside the castle, because he had friends waiting for him.

Sirius had told him they weren't really his friends. He told him their parents, their cousins, weren't really Regulus's family either.

Regulus had raised his wand. Sirius had gotten on the bike, looking as if he had more to say but couldn't bring himself to say it, pride getting in the way. Regulus had pocketed his wand and told Sirius that it was no wonder Mum and Dad had never loved him. He'd felt his gut sink as he replayed his own words later, next to the warmth of the common room fire. To think he was no better than a blood traitor, hurling petty insults when there were larger issues at hands, like the existence of the Mudbloods.

It was a pity he'd had to share the school with Sirius. He would have preferred to have gone to school with Narcissa for more than a single year, or gone to school with Bellatrix for any amount of time at all. Sirius had never appreciated him. Well, no, he had appreciated him once, but things changed. People changed.

Rabastan had gotten to enjoy attending school when his brother, Rodolphus, had. Rabastan had been in a different house than his brother and sister-in-law, but they had loved and accepted him. Nurtured him. By the time Regulus had been in his first year, Sirius had already resented their parents, and he resented Regulus as well, for being the perfect son.

Regulus realized he was the favorite. It was obvious. But it was a position he felt he'd earned, looking at Sirius's attitude toward Orion and Walburga Black. Regulus had felt the sting of his brother's rejection rather harshly while at Hogwarts. The letters from his parents and his position as Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team had helped. His father had shown up at a few of his games, in fact.

There had been a girl a year above Regulus who was an amazing flier with quicker reflexes than he could ever hope to have. But that was the problem: she was a girl. Girls hardly ever got onto the Slytherin house team. The guilt had gone away after the first few games. As a pureblood wizard, Regulus was just entitled to certain things. It was an early lesson in how the world worked.

Rabastan, lucky duck, was still loved, accepted, and nurtured. He lived with Rodolphus and Bellatrix, and they actually got along well. Regulus couldn't help being a little jealous, but at least he was loved, accepted, and nurtured by the three Lestranges too. Not to mention his parents, his cousin Narcissa, and her fiancé Lucius.

He'd had another cousin once. She had married a Mudblood, though, a thought which still disturbed him. She had been nice to him! He had actually liked her, just as he had liked Bellatrix and Narcissa. In fact, he had sympathized with her when he was younger, because she was the sister who wasn't quite treated the same as Bella and Cissa treated each other. She never quite got that sisterly love. He had seen himself in her, an older, female version of himself.

And then she'd ruined it.

He'd take any pureblood woman who would have him, honestly. As long as she wasn't full of strange ideas like Andromeda. Poor, lost Andromeda.

He knew he'd be an excellent father. While his mother had moments where she made him feel small, his father had never made him feel that way. His father was gentle in a way Walburga Crabbe Black would never be capable of. But, for being able to make him feel small, she could also make him feel like the most wonderful boy to have ever walked the earth. She was versatile that way. She could strike him or, really, any man down with a word, and build him up the same way. This is why he loved his parents. His father was consistent, and his mother was exciting. He would be both; he was sure of it.

Bellatrix would also make a good parent. She had never let him down, at least. Surely there was another woman out there like Bellatrix, or like Narcissa. There had to be. After he got some of his work for the cause out of the way, he'd try and find her. He didn't have to settle down just yet. His eyes were free, now, to wander.

Wander they did, though he only let them do so sparingly. He couldn't help wanting the company of certain males, watching the way a pair of robes emphasized broad shoulders or a trim waist. He was only human, after all.

It was his biggest secret, though Rabastan had somehow known years before. He'd said something about it to Regulus, he'd told him that if he ever needed someone to talk to it was best talk to someone who understood. Regulus had been grateful, but very embarrassed. He had only just met the man back then, and had been wary of the fact he had been a Hufflepuff in school. But Bellatrix had assured him the man was as serious and intelligent as his Slytherin brother.

Regulus had never come to talk to him, but just as he could see Bellatrix giving him _that look_ every once in a while, he could also see Rabastan looking at him that way. Not as often, but Regulus never blamed a man for looking. He wasn't a hypocrite. Bellatrix eyeing him that way made him feel warm and appreciated. Rabastan's looks made him feel like a pubescent boy again, made him nervous and quiet and a little clumsy. The nervousness and quietness and clumsiness would just make the man beam at him knowingly. Regulus would want to die. And also want so much more.

Rabastan was full of life in a way most Death Eaters weren't. Maybe there was a little something to the idea of going against the norm, because Rabastan had little patience for propriety when it got in the way of his goals. He was a very honest, very loyal man. Rodolphus was quiet and calculating. He was measured, concise, and had set features. Rabastan was not afraid to be silly, to admit that he didn't know something, and this relaxed nature did its best to draw Regulus in despite his commitment to not disgracing himself in the eyes of everyone else he knew.

Rodolphus sat, silent, not upset, just not having anything to say that he deemed worthwhile. Bellatrix played the little hostess beautifully. She always had. It was something Regulus really admired about her. And Rabastan, he took charge of the conversation. He would ask Regulus about things at home, if he'd heard from the blood traitor, if Walburga had recovered from her illness, if Regulus had clipped out the latest articles about the Dark Lord yet, what kind of music he fancied, if he'd accepted Bellatrix's invitation to the next wizarding opera, and so much more. Regulus typically spent dinner at the Lestrange house fighting a flush and trying not to stammer.

Bellatrix thought it was Rabastan's lack of propriety that made Regulus so nervous, and thought he preferred quiet dinners. It was more than that, though. Everything about Rabastan made Regulus nervous, because he admired everything about the man. He turned distinctly red when Rabastan asked if he wanted to play a game of Wizard's Chess with him. Against his own better judgment, Regulus accepted.

When he had accepted, however, he had expected to play Rabastan in the parlor. He found himself being led up to Rabastan's bedroom instead. It looked much like the rest of the house, but it felt more like Regulus's own bedroom back at home. This was a real bird, and not a glass one. It was a different species, perhaps, but at least it was alive.

"Have a seat." Rabastan grinned, picking a stray sock up off of an antique-looking wooden chair for Regulus and pushing two open books off of the small table. He sat in an armchair on the opposite side, kicking off his boots, peeling off his robe to get more comfortable. He looked at Regulus expectantly, Regulus realizing, after a moment, that the man was waiting for him to hand over the chess set he had in his hands.

Regulus handed it over a little nervously, watching as Rabastan set up the board. He became lost in thought as he looked around the room. Rabastan paused, looking up at him. "You seem distracted."

"I am," Regulus admitted.

"Oh?"

"I like your room," Regulus admitted. He swallowed. "It's...interesting."

Rabastan cracked a grin. "I think you mean it's a right sty. But, thanks." He cracked his knuckles. "Fancy a bit of music?" He aimed his wand at an old musical cabinet in the corner. Classical music sounded, reminding Regulus that this was the house of the Lestranges, and that this was a Lestrange himself, and a man, and a fellow Death Eater, and most of all that despite the fact that the bed, half-covered in papers and discarded clothing, looked terribly inviting, accepting such an invitation was not an option.

"I can also do the Wireless."

"No thanks," Regulus said quickly.

"Not a radio man, eh? Too contemporary?"

Regulus merely shrugged and tried to hide behind his hair a bit. Truth be told, he loved the Wireless as much as the next eighteen-year-old. But he needed the classical music to remind him that this...sty...was indeed the room of a Lestrange. An older man with a reputation to uphold, just as Regulus had his own reputation to uphold.

"Alright there?"

Regulus shrugged again.

"I have other games. We might even get a bit of Gobstones going." He smiled widely, childlike glee rather contagious, as usual. Regulus smiled a bit as well, but declined.

"Perhaps I should retire," he suggested. It was the right thing to do.

"Nonsense. How could sitting in that pristine room be any fun? No, you'll simply have to stay."

Regulus quirked a brow. Was Rabastan...flirting? His mind flashed back to the previous months since he'd gotten his mark. Perhaps instead of thinking of Regulus as the teenaged cousin of his sister-in-law, that mark had proven something.

Regulus said nothing, quietly lifting the sleeve of his robe and unbuttoning his cuff. With a glance up at Rabastan, he rolled the sleeve up to his elbow, holding out his forearm.

Rabastan eyed the mark. "What is it?" he asked, watching Regulus's face.

"Do you remember when I got this?" Regulus finally asked.

"Sure I do. Bella had to rub you down with potion for the pain." A shadow of disappointment fell over Regulus's expression. Rabastan noticed and quickly reassured him. "Regulus, I'm teasing you. You did well. You pleased our Lord greatly. And you proved that you are a man."

Regulus looked up curiously out of the corner of his eye.

"Sounds silly? Growing up, boys have a lot of ideas about what it takes to become a man. Much sillier ones. Feats of strength, sexual escapades. But what really means something is finding a worthy cause and proving yourself loyal to it. You did that, and now you're a man." Rabastan gestured around to his messy room. "There isn't a whole lot of difference between being man or boy, really, except where it really counts."

Regulus took this in, looking about the room again, and he jumped slightly when Rabastan ran his fingertip gently over the snake of Regulus's mark. Regulus swallowed hard, knowing that he should definitely leave. He ignored this fact, though, and extended his arm a bit more, holding eye-contact for a heavy moment as Rabastan drew his pale forearm closer, tracing the mark there a bit more.

Something in those dark eyes asked questions Rabastan was afraid to ask. Not out of propriety, but out of fear he'd scare the young thing off. Man or not, he was still barely eighteen.

"Are we really men?"

"The two of us?" Rabastan looked surprised. "Of course. Why wouldn't we be?"

Regulus was silent for a moment. "We don't like women."

Rabastan's dark eyes darted to the door. "Regulus," he said seriously, "there is nothing wrong with us."

"I have to find a woman and produce an heir, and I am not the cheating type," Regulus pointed out. "You are free to do whatever you wish, as you are not the heir."

"You're a victim of a loveless system. Not a freak."

Regulus was silent, so Rabastan got up to find the Gobstones.

* * *

That night saw Regulus lying awake, and he decided he wouldn't get any sleep until he returned to Rabastan's room.

Just being with a fellow spirit might help. He thought of Rabastan like an older brother usually...as much as he thought of him as a man he would like to do very un-brotherly things to. Maybe the attentions Rabastan had bestowed on him after the taking of his mark had been un-brotherly as well.

Regulus could recall lunch here and there, a drink together on a quiet evening. He was daft, wasn't he? The older man _had_ been flirting. And oddly enough, Regulus mainly felt as if he'd wasted time in not realizing. He could have been flirting back the whole time!

Unless he was wrong. He could be wrong. He'd been wrong about these things before, of course. Luckily, he'd had gracious friends.

He knocked on the door. Rabastan answered in his night shirt, raising an eyebrow when he saw Regulus was at the door.

"Rabastan, have you been...er...flirting?"

Rabastan smirked slightly. "When?"

"Uh, lunch, drinks together, that time we, uh, we went to the opera?"

Rabastan's smirk grew into a grin. He held the door open. "Come in."

Regulus felt small in his pajamas and bare feet. He curled up in the large armchair, and felt even smaller.

Rabastan sat in the wooden chair. "I'll be honest with you, yes. You're under no obligation to return my affections, Regulus, but I had fun spending time with you."

"I had fun too," Regulus quickly agreed.

Rabastan went for it. "Would you like to have lunch next week, as my date?" Taking in the sudden blankness of expression on Regulus's face, he hid his hurt as he quietly said, "Never mind. I understand."

The grandfather clock chimed in the hallway outside of Rabastan's room.

"No," Regulus said slowly. "No, I...accept."

* * *

Being courted by Rabastan officially did not look any different from the times they had hung out before. It was all still mostly Rabastan's treat, with Regulus chipping in here and there. Being courted by Rabastan _felt_ different from the times they had hung out before, though. It felt thrilling and a little scary. There was this sexual tension in the air that affected both of them, distracting them at moments from the rest of their lives.

Eventually, they slipped off to bed together and expressed the tension. A fire Regulus hadn't known he was capable of had unfurled in his body, and he felt like a man, truly, for the first time.

It was their fifth such time together when Bellatrix found out. She had knocked on Rabastan's door, tried the knob, and then, realizing he was up to something, she had waited. Everyone who knew Rabastan knew he fancied men. He was not secretive about it. But he had never been caught in the act before.

Bellatrix's moment of triumph turned into a moment of shock, the "aha!" merely becoming an "ahhh!"

Regulus had turned bright red. Rabastan had stepped forward to the doorway as well to try and defend him. "Bella," he began.

"Rabastan!" she spat, eyes slit in fury. "I don't care what you get up to. I don't care who you get up in. But I cannot have you corrupting the heir to the Black name."

"Bella, please. He wasn't corrupting me," Regulus said in a small voice.

"Did you or did you not just have sexual relations with him?"

"Really? That's what you thought was going on?" Regulus scoffed, knees feeling weak.

"Oh, it wasn't? Enlighten me, then."

Rabastan put a hand on Regulus's shoulder.

"I will put you under the influence of Veritaserum, you know. Tell me the truth now and I let your parents decide what punishment you shall endure. Lie to me, make me waste three drops of that potion on you, and it will be my turn."

That sinking feeling of guilt was gnawing at Regulus's stomach. He hung his head. "We were. I'm sorry. We were." Rabastan's hand squeezed his shoulder in encouragement. Regulus felt very cold.

"How many times have you defiled your body with this man?"

He tried to remember, thinking hard, and Rabastan answered for him, correctly. "This was the fifth time, Bella. Please don't interrogate him any longer. You need not worry about the Black family name. He will find a pureblood woman, no problem. He will produce heirs."

"Be that as it may, you of all men should know that this behavior is intolerable. I must tell the boy's parents."

"Why, Bella? I think he feels guilty enough."

"You will also not be allowed to spend time alone with him," she went on. "I had thought you considered him to be like the little brother you never had. I _encouraged_interaction. I practically threw him into your bed!" She looked horrified with herself.

"Bella, he is old enough to make his own mistakes. You did not make it for him."

Mistake. The word stirred up Regulus's stomach even more. The bliss of orgasm had rapidly left him and now he felt anything but blissful.

"Perhaps you are right. But it is apparent he cannot be trusted to _not_ make mistakes. Regulus, come."

Regulus looked up at Rabastan for a long moment. He fell into those dark eyes as easily as he had been falling into them for the past month. A mean, spidery hand gripped at his arm and took him away with a crack.

Rabastan turned on the wireless and began to tidy his room.

* * *

Walburga was horrified and Orion was quietly disappointed. Regulus wasn't sure whether or not his father's vaguely disgusted and very pitying expression hurt more than his mother's horrible words.

After all, the words were true. He'd known they were true his whole life. He had just stopped caring. He _was_ filthy. He was a good-for-nothing. He would only get the most desperate of women to be his wife. He _should_ be burned off the tapestry. He should be locked in his room for a while. None of it mattered anymore if he could not be alone with Rabastan.

He was led up to his room like a child, and locked inside. For a quiet moment, he understood Sirius's desire to be free.

* * *

After a few hours of being alone in his room to silently cry, Kreacher appeared to Regulus. He brushed hair gently out of Regulus's face and asked if he needed anything.

Regulus sighed, requesting a glass of water first. When Kreacher returned, he asked Kreacher to bring Rabastan a message.

"What is the message, Master?"

Regulus smiled faintly at the loyal elf. "Tell him that I love him."

* * *

Regulus had to ignore his past with Rabastan when they were assigned by the Dark Lord to work together. They had been proven to work well as a team in the past. They exchanged pleasantries, both understanding how the small talk stung, both wanting more.

It was on one such mission that Regulus looked up at the finished scene and felt that old stirring in his gut once more. The dark mark glimmered like something beautiful and horrible. An emerald stolen from a murdered man. No, two murdered men. Two bereft men without a future. Regulus looked at Rabastan and thought he just might be thinking the same thing.

Rabastan looked at the dark mark and thought, simply, that it was an emerald. There was nothing dirty or wrong about it, to him, except that it was not quite as beautiful as Regulus.


End file.
